Penelope Pinkerton raised the nine-millimeter, took aim at her target and without hesitation, pulled the trigger. She hit her mark.
“Yes!” she cried out excitedly. Penelope removed her earmuffs and turned to smile at her shooting instructor. “I did it!” she exclaimed, beaming with pride.
“Bull’s-eye!” her instructor, Jason Stiffley, announced, pulling her paper target forward for inspection. “I don’t think you need an instructor anymore,” he said with a lopsided, toothy grin.
“A man like you is always worth keeping around,” she said, giving him a flirtatious wink. He seemed to like that comment, and he stepped aside as she brushed past him with her gun case and small ammunition bag in hand.
Shooting was exhilarating for her, and she was still coming down from the rush of adrenaline as she pulled away from the indoor shooting range. She was headed to meet some friends for lunch, which was a good thing because she was absolutely starving. The excitement from her new hobby had left her feeling giddy, and she was ready to share the news of her successful day at the range with her friends.
Penelope found a parking spot and quickly combed her sweaty hair into a high ponytail. Shooting the gun made her feel not only alive, but beautiful. She decided against redoing her makeup and headed into Jay’s Diner, walking at a brisk pace. She was disappointed to see that her friends had yet to arrive, but she settled into a corner booth on her own anyway.
A pleasingly plump waitress received her drink order with a smile. For Penelope, the waitress’s enthusiasm, which normally would seem facetious or nettlesome, was comforting. There’s nothing wrong or fake about being genuinely polite and cheerful to strangers, she realized. She didn’t want to be a cynic anymore; she didn’t want to be like her mother. She only wanted to be happy, and perhaps, she thought, I can just fake it ’til I make it. Lately, for some reason, the sun seemed a little brighter and the grass a little greener for Penelope. She wasn’t sure why exactly, but she enjoyed having a fresh perspective.
Penelope gave a swift wave as she saw her friends stroll through the diner door. They saw her too, and waved back as they made their way over to where she sat. They slid into the booth opposite of her, and Penelope flashed a subtle smile at Violet Cromwell and Lexi Ambrose.
For an instant, as she looked into the faces of her newfound friends, everything surrounding her seemed hazy and surreal. It was hard to believe that only two short weeks had passed since she had marched up to the house on the hill, determined to have it out with Michael’s apparent mistresses.
Penelope rang the doorbell—not once, but six times. When that didn’t produce a speedy result, she began banging on Violet’s door with a closed fist. “Open up, damn it! We need to have a chat!” she shouted through the door.
***
When Lexi Ambrose opened the door, a look of confusion crossed her pretty face as her eyes rested upon this bewildered woman who was rapping on the door so frantically. The woman looked plumb crazy, but Lexi was used to crazy, so she shrugged and turned back to call for her roommate. “Who the hell…?” Violet asked, stepping forward to identify this unruly caller.
“Close the door, Laura!” Violet bellowed, seemingly recognizing the crazy woman, and she tried to slam the door closed before Lexi even had the chance.
But the woman was determined, and just like they do in the movies, she jammed her foot in the door, preventing it from closing. “Ouch!” she yelped, and instinctually jumped back, reaching down to massage her tender foot.
Instead of closing the door again, Violet opened it wide and apologized. “Are you okay?” she asked tentatively.
“What the hell’s that door made of—steel?” Penelope asked angrily, glaring at her in a classic if looks could kill kind of way.
Violet led Penelope, limping, to a kitchen chair, and Lexi went to the refrigerator to fetch ice. Penelope massaged her aching foot and frowned. “I think you broke my toe.”
Violet stared down at the foot, horrified, and the three of them were silent. All eyes were on the foot. Lexi snorted softly, breaking the silence, “It’s just a toe. She’s not going to die. Let’s not make this any more dramatic than it already is.” She raised her eyebrows at the women.
“What the hell is going on, anyway? Who are you?” Lexi asked, pointing a finger at Penelope. “And why the hell did you slam the door on her like that?” she asked, looking at her roommate curiously.
“I’m sorry,” Violet told Penelope. “I just didn’t want you to attack me again.”
“Again?” Lexi asked, looking back and forth between them.
“You didn’t tell her?” Penelope asked, and now it was her turn to laugh.
“She’s just my roommate as of recently,” Violet explained. “I just met her last week.”
“Tell me what?” Lexi asked.
Penelope erupted with laughter again. “Roommates for a week, and you’re already sharing men! That’s despicable!”
***
“We’re not sharing Michael,” Violet replied, sitting down in exasperation. She covered her face with her hands, feeling exhausted by this ludicrous inquisition.
For a moment, time stood still. And then Lexi said quietly, “What about Michael?”
Violet lifted her head from her hands abruptly. “How could you possibly know anything about Michael Sinclair?”
Lexi looked at her roommate, and then to Penelope. She backed up slowly. “Somebody please tell me what’s going on.”
“And the plot thickens!” Penelope cackled unsteadily, seemingly coming unhinged. “Let me get this straight,” she continued, “you…” she said, pointing across the table at Violet, “are screwing my fiancé. And you,” she said, pointing at Lexi, “are also screwing him, but neither of you know about it?”
***
Penelope was baffled and was beginning to wonder if she was on one of those candid camera TV shows. This didn’t seem so funny anymore. In fact, it never really was. She felt like crying, but she was all cried out. Her marriage to Michael was over, and she could feel it…all the way down to her bones.
“Wait a minute,” Lexi said. “I haven’t screwed Michael in a long time. In fact, until tonight, I hadn’t seen him in nearly a decade.”
Violet was shaking her head in disbelief. “Laura, I don’t understand—”
“Her name isn’t Laura,” Penelope announced, laughing again, heartily. “Unless that’s the stage name she’s going by these days…”
For a moment, it looked as though Lexi might tackle her, but then the look of defeat returned, and she sighed, turning to her roommate. “My name is Lexi. I’m Michael’s ex-wife,” she explained. She turned to Penelope. “Now, who are you?”
“I’m Michael’s fiancé,” Penelope muttered, “or at least I was.”
“And I guess that just leaves me,” Violet said with her head hung low. “I’m the despicable mistress.”
***
Minutes passed before anyone spoke again. It was Lexi’s voice that broke the silence. “I’m sorry, Violet. I had no idea. And I’m sorry I lied to you about my name. I just didn’t want Michael or Elijah to know I was in town yet, but I guess it doesn’t matter, because he found me all on his own. I guess…” she wondered thoughtfully, “he was probably looking for you when he rode by the house and saw me on the balcony. Stupid me…I actually thought it was fate calling.” Lexi continued to look at her roommate and friend, searching for some sign that she hated her or hopefully a sign that she didn’t.
As though reading her mind, Violet said, “I’m not mad at you, Lexi. You didn’t know.”
“I ditched the plane,” Penelope muttered, staring off into the distance.
“What plane?” Violet asked, raising her eyebrows and looking over at Lexi.
“The one Lexi sent Elijah,” she explained and turned her eyes to Lexi. “I thought you were the one having an affair with Michael, and I was so distraught…”
“How is he?” Lexi asked, realizing that this stranger was, in fact, an integral part of her son’s life.
Penelope blurted out, “He’s a terrific kid.”
“Thank you for helping to take care of him,” Lexi said, and slowly pulled out a chair so that she could join the other two women at the table. “I’ve had some pretty weird days in my life, but this one takes the cake.”
“Agreed,” Violet said, still shaking her head in disbelief.
“You know,” Penelope said, “we may be in opposition to one another, but we do have one thing in common, and that’s Michael Sinclair.”
The women stared at each other, and for a brief moment, they all felt an unexpected sense of camaraderie. Violet stood to make coffee, but thought better of it, and headed for the liquor cabinet. “Anyone care for a drink?”
Over drinks, they all came to the same conclusion. Michael would be back in a month, and he would then make his choice between them. They all loved him, and although that put them at odds, in a strange way, it was exactly what brought them together.
The women talked for hours. Perhaps it was the liquor flowing through their bloodstreams or maybe something else, but the conversation came easily and was not confrontational. Lexi was candid about her marriage to Michael, and she admitted that her choices had been poor. Despite Penelope’s knowledge about Lexi’s past misdeeds, she could not help but like the woman. She had a quirky demeanor, and she was funny—in a dark and cynical way—as was she. Lexi explained that she honestly had no idea who either of them were until today, and as she realized Penelope’s role as stepmother to Elijah, she began to ask more and more questions about him. As a mother herself, Penelope understood this mother’s love for her child and her yearning to learn more about him.
Penelope learned that Violet, on the other hand, was well aware of her and Michael’s engagement, and although she should have hated her for having an affair with him, it was not Violet who had pledged to marry her and remain faithful; it was Michael who betrayed her, not Violet, nor his ex-wife. She was beginning to see that they all loved him in their very own individual ways, and for some reason, this made her feel closer to these women; they understood the allure of Michael’s charm, and they all wondered what it would feel like if they lost him.
After hours of conversation and multiple cocktails, Penelope was too intoxicated to drive home. She asked for a phone book to locate a cab service, but Violet and Lexi insisted she stay. She was too exhausted and drunk to refuse the offer, and she passed out promptly under a wooly afghan on the couch in Violet’s great room.
The evening had been so unexpected and bizarre, but it would not be their last evening together. They met for dinner and drinks later that same week, and as hard as it was to believe, they did not once mutter his name; instead, they spoke of other topics; Lexi’s crazy stories about the Clamshell, Violet’s brilliant new series—which strangely enough, Penelope had read—and Penelope spoke of her daughter and Elijah.
***
Lexi stayed quiet during these moments as though she were trying to take it all in and hold on to the information as long as possible. The women were all so different; their appearances, their professions, and even their values; yet, somehow, they found some sort of common ground, and perhaps their contrasting personalities complimented each other’s.
And now here we are today, sitting in a diner like we have been friends for years, Penelope thought, incredulously. It was a strange thought indeed. Since their first encounter, the three women had met for lunch on three separate occasions. Oddly enough, with the exception of the first night, they still never discussed the elephant in the room: Michael.
“So, how did it go at the shooting range?” Violet asked, interrupting Penelope’s line of thought.
“Yeah,” Lexi chirped in, “did Stiffley get a stiffy over your shooting skills?” she joked.
Penelope chuckled. “He is pretty handsome, I must admit, but not as handsome as…” she did not finish the sentence. She didn’t have to. “And in fact,” she said instead, “I actually hit the bull’s-eye today!”
“Impressive!” Violet cheered, clapping her hands together. “Remind me never to piss you off.” Violet then paused, realizing how silly she sounded. She had, in fact, pissed off Penelope Pinkerton on a couple of occasions. And with that said, all three women burst into a fit of giggles.
They were such an odd pairing, really, but somehow, it made sense among them. The waitress returned for their food orders, and each woman ordered a different dish: a light chicken salad for Penelope, a hamburger for Lexi, and a ribeye for Violet.
After paying their bill, they stepped out of Jay’s Diner only to be met with a torrential downpour. They found a roomy space under the dusty grey awning, and Violet and Lexi lit cigarettes.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Violet asked Penelope, using her hand to waft the pungent smoke in an opposite direction.
“Nah…I used to smoke, but I gave it up,” Penelope revealed with a shrug. “I used to love it…smoking, I mean…and sometimes it’s still hard to believe that I don’t. Sometimes the things you love the most are also the things that hurt you. And once you give them up, living without them seems impossible. But after a while…you just do,” Penelope said softly, and her words hung in the air as all three women stood there, silently huddled together against the rain.
“We should all quit,” Lexi said, and for an instant, perhaps they all realized they were no longer talking about cigarettes.
“Okay,” Violet broke in, “I have an idea I want to run by you, Lexi. And just hear me out…” Lexi raised her eyebrows. “So, I was thinking maybe you could put some of your stripper skills to good use.”
Lexi frowned.
“Wait. You said you were going to hear me out,” Violet whined.
“Okay, I’m listening,” Lexi said, chuckling at her friend’s persistence.
“So, what if you offered a stripper class for the women in this town?” Penelope snorted, and Lexi continued to frown. “I’m serious!” Violet said.
“I seriously doubt there are any aspiring strippers in this town,” Lexi pointed out.
“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Violet assured her. “I’m talking about doing some sort of stripper-cise class instead of aerobics or going to the gym. The idea of it may be a little unorthodox around here, but that is exactly why I think people will come check it out to begin with. I’m not trying to undermine your other skills, Lexi, I just think that you should try to capitalize on your athleticism and dancing abilities. The other night you told me that even as a young girl you loved to dance.”
“I would join a class like that,” Penelope spoke up, “if dancing like a stripper could make me have a body like yours. I would be willing to pay big bucks to join that club. Plus, I think it would be sort of fun—more fun than lifting weights or doing crunches.”
Lexi remained wordless, and she was chewing on her bottom lip.
Violet instantly looked regretful. “Lexi…”
“I love it!” Lexi squealed, reaching for her roommate and pulling her into a tight hug.
She pulled back. “But I don’t even have a building space to start up something like this…” Lexi said.
“I’ve already thought of that,” Violet said, wrapping an arm around her friend and flashing her brightest smile. “We’ll just use some of the unused space in my house! We can really make this work, Lexi!” The three of them squealed with joy at the plan for Lexi’s new business venture.
The excitement of the moment was interrupted by the sound of Penelope’s cell phone ringing. Violet continued to rattle on about all of their grand plans, but Lexi did not take her eyes off of Penelope.
Penelope’s face was ashen.
“What is it?” Violet asked, coming over to stand beside her.
“It’s Elijah. He was riding home with one of his school friends, and there was an accident. He’s at the hospital,” Penelope explained breathlessly. Penelope was trembling. She started to dig frantically for her keys, but Lexi was already running toward Violet’s Tracker. Violet and Penelope ran after her. Violet climbed in behind the wheel, and the other women climbed in through the passenger door.
“Lexi, I thought we agreed that you would wait to talk to Michael before trying to see Elijah,” Penelope said gently.
“Well, Michael’s not here for me to ask, now, is he?” Lexi snapped. “You’re his stepmother, and I’m going with you to make sure our son is okay,” she said, and she squeezed Penelope’s hand tightly in her own.